


Of Love and Of Honor

by ravenria



Series: The Wind that Calls [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Incest, Introspection, Mentions of past abuse, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7700284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenria/pseuds/ravenria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A companion piece to The Wind that Calls.</p><p>Jon reflects on his relationship with his half-sister Sansa as he makes his way to her chambers to correct the wrongs of the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Love and Of Honor

It was the hour of the wolf.

Jon sat alone at his desk thinking about the events if the past weeks since they'd recovered Winterfell. The fire died out hours ago but Jon remained there unmoving despite the cold. His breath frosted in the freezing air yet it was still warmer than the nights he experienced North of the wall.

Red hair and warmth flashed in his head. The warmth of loving a woman could thaw any kind of ice or snow. But it was not Ygritte's shade of red he was thinking off. Guilt pierced through his heart as the previous nights replayed.

He could hear her moans in the night's silence. He could feel her smooth skin in his hands. He could taste her... Oh he could taste her and she was delicious. But pained him all the same that the one he was thinking of was his sister- Sansa.

'Half-sister,' he reminded himself, as if their difference in mothers made things more acceptable. He recalled all the times it hurt him when they were younger whenever she called him 'half-brother'. But now he was thankful for the distinction. He never did see her like he saw Arya. She never saw him like she saw Robb. But did that make it all the more understandable? Jon could only know the guilt in his heart- the guilt of truly wanting her in spite of all the wrongness of it.

Jon clenched his fist and pounded it onto the table. It was time he put an end to it. He was still a Stark. "I may not have his name but he was still my father," he reminded himself as he stood from his desk and stilled his resolve. "I need to end this tonight," he promised before making his way to Sansa's chambers.

The winds howled outside as Jon made his way through the dark corridors. Fresh snow was falling much like the night of their first kiss.

Littlefinger had just died and the Vale Lords have officially declared Jon as their King. Lord Royce was more than happy to cover up Lord Baelish's demise at the hands, or fangs, of Ghost. 'Serves him right for trying have his way with Sansa,' Jon recalls as his blood boiled at the thought of the man trying to force a kiss on Sansa. Thank the gods Ghost was following her quietly and had sensed her danger.  
In truth, Jon was actually warged into his direwolf and he'd been watching over her as she prayed in the godswood. He hid himself when he picked up Baelish's scent and tried hard to hear what he was saying. But all human instinct left him when he saw the old man grab onto Sansa's neck and force a kiss on her. Ghost launched from behind Baelish and went for his neck. Jon could still feel the rush he felt inside the wolf as life left the vile man. To his surprise though, he found a faint smile on Sansa's lips as she looked at the dying man. What surprised him even more was the dagger he noted protruding from her sleeve. "Well done Ghost," she said patting the direwolf's head. Sansa walked away from the dying corpse with Ghost on tow. "Let's get you some water to wash off the blood," she said cooly and she guided Ghost to her room. Jon then went to the godswood and found Lady Brienne and Podric cleaning up the mess. "Burn his body," he commanded them and they did so without question. Fresh snow fell as he walked back to the keep and covered all the traces of blood that could not be cleaned.  
He went to Sansa's chambers. She opened the door to him and pulled him in. "Jon! I..." She said in a quivering voice. But Jon hushed her, pained that she would try to pretend in front of him.  
"I know Sansa; forgive me from stealing the kill from you," he said and she looked at him confusedly. "I was inside Ghost when it happened."  
Sansa, for the first time since the Wall, dropped all pretense and lunged at her brother, throwing her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Jon. I may not understand but thank you."  
He tightened his hold on her waist and pressed her closer to him. "I will never have anyone touch you again," he said possessively and he felt Sansa smile against his neck. She loosened her hold and looked at him softly. Suddenly they lips were upon each other. The kiss remained chaste but it lasted too long to say it was platonic. Jon could not remember who kissed first, but he realized it was unimportant. From that moment on, Sansa dominated his every waking hour.

He reached the landing to the floor of the family hallway. She never cared for guards outside her door and simply compromised to having Brienne stay at the room at the end of the hall. "Ghost keeps me safe well enough," she told the Lady with a glint in her eye as she stroked the direwolf's fur whose head was contentedly settled on her lap.  
The Lord's Chamber was only a door away from Sansa's. Only the length of room separated them from each other. There was no way he would have Sansa return to her old chambers after all and was more than happy to have her so close by.

Things warped from then on. They began an unspoken affair. The days passed between all their duties and Sansa naturally filled the role of Queen. Jon found himself admiring her as she organized the castle. With every throng of people he brought back to Winterfell, Sansa made sure to welcome them and find them a proper place. Soon their little commune had become a properly functioning unit. Jon did not have the brilliance for this; it was all Sansa.  
They spent their nights together. After the evening meals at the Great Hall, they would retire to his office and discuss the matters of the day. It was during one of these nights that they found themselves in each others arms. Neither of them were truly inebriated that first time but they were high on each other. He took Sansa on top of his desk and she clung to him so desperately that no amount of time would have been enough to sate them.  
"We shouldn't have done that," he said when pulled out of her but her grabbed on to his cheeks and pulled him to her lips. "I don't think I could have stopped myself longer than I already have," she whispered. "I love you, Jon," she said kissing him once more before leaving him alone to brood. From then on, Sansa also consumed his nights. He could not hold his sanity unless he had her. But it was wrong. It should stop.

He stood in front of her door and knocked softly. She opened the door immediately and let him into her room. Sansa returned to her vanity to finish brushing her long red hair. Ghost was by the hearth, not even bother to acknowledge his presence. Jon simply stood there by door, still as a pillar.  
"Will you not take your cloak off?" She asked settling her brush on the table. Jon had to breathe in deep when he noticed how her night robe opened loosely at the middle and revealed the thin cloth of her shift.  
"Sansa, I'm not staying tonight," he declared. Jon felt as if life was being sucked out of him but he needed to be strong.  
Sansa stood from her seat and looked at him curiously. "What's wrong Jon? Why are you being peculiar?"  
"This has to stop Sansa. I will not dishonor you more than I already have," he replied trying to sound firm. He failed miserably as he could not help but avert his gaze.  
"I don't understand Jon. Why are you wavering so suddenly? Do you not love me anymore?" She asked him as she made her way closer to him. Jon remained silent and tried hard to collect his resolve as he felt her hand on his cheek, beckoning him to look at her.  
"Jon, why is loving you dishonorable?" She asked him in a pleading voice. Her hands held on to the fabric of his tunic, emanating her desperation through his skin. He was averting his gaze but he could feel her tears wetting his skin through the cotton. Her fiery red hair grazed his cheek and he could smell the scent of flowers she bathed with. It took everything in him to keep still and not envelope her in an embrace.  
"I've been married twice to people that gods and men have deemed worthy to be my husband. A highborn and a bastard, both of them were wrong. Both of them were wrong for me," she said, her voice muffled by her sobs.  
"Why is it wrong for me to love you?" Sansa let go of his shirt and held on to his face so that his eyes could not escape hers. He saw the blush taint her alabaster skin. He saw the wet trails in her flawless cheeks. He saw the shine in her swollen eyes from the tears she was shedding for him.  
"We are brother and sister," he grunted, trying to remind both of them of why this was wrong.  
"I do not care. Damn honor, Jon!" She exclaimed. "Honor killed father. Honor killed you! If loving you, as a woman is dishonorable, then the gods be damned! They have never answered my prayers, why must I live by their honor! They did not find it dishonorable when I was humiliated and tortured in front of the entire court. They did not find it dishonorable when I was raped and cut by my own husband. There are so many kinds of love in this world." Her words grew louder and more forceful by the sentence. She pounded her anger into his chests as the anger poured out of her heart. Then she stopped and stepped back away from him. Sansa sat her self on her bed and cradled her head in her hands. "Why is ours the shameful kind?" She asked him with a voice so broken that it made Jon lose his grip on himself.  
Jon walked to her and kneeled in front of her. "Sansa..." He called softly. She looked up at him and he wiped the tears away with his thumb. He kissed her crown and embraced her. Jon already knew the horrors that had befallen his sister. He wished every single day that he could have been the one to poison Joffrey, that he could have punched Ramsey to his death. But Jon knew that in the end they made Sansa stronger. He loved her strength. He loved her spirit. He died and returned a soulless man but she pounded life back into him. He lived because of her. From the moment he saw her at Castle Black, Jon knew that his life only had meaning because of her.  
"Gods be damned," he whispered as he took her in his arms and rocked her soothingly.  
"I will never bring it up again, I promise. I will not let anyone come between us. You are my life Sansa, I will die again before I lose you." He felt her smile as she snuggled into his chest.  
"Please, Jon. You're not the only one afraid that what we are doing is wrong but if feels more painful not to be able to be with you." She said looking up to him with a worried look on her face.  
"I understand Sansa," his voice strained as he tried to find his words. "Truly I do. There are nights when I feel a harrowing need to feel your warmth. Every time I leave your bed, it pains my heart more than any stab. I love you, that is the only truth that should matter now." He kissed her fully on her lips and he placed a hand at her nape to pull her in closer. They have agreed, nothing can ever stop them from belonging to each other now.  
Sansa ran her fingers through his dark locks as she opened her mouth to his demanding tongue. They parted momentarily for breath before Jon took the air from her lungs again when he started pressing hot kisses at the side of neck. His free hand moved up from her waist and onto swell of her breast. He was glad that she was no longer wearing her corset. The bloody thing always kept his hands from feeling her softness during the day. At night, once Sansa changes into her nightdress, Jon is pleased to see all the layers peeled and her body free of restraints. Sansa moaned a little too loudly when he squeezed her flesh while biting into the sensitive spot on her neck.  
"Don't leave marks, Jon," she reminded him in between her gasps. His other hand was already working on her laces and he paid no mind to her warnings. He let go of her breast for a moment to slide off her night dress completely off her body. She couldn't help but shiver when the cold winter air hit her bare skin but Jon was warm- he had always been feverishly warm; he would make her melt soon. Sansa let herself fall onto the bed and then lifted her leg seductively to Jon's shoulder. The cloth of her gown slowly fell down her thighs and pooled at her belly. Jon was given quite the view of her bare torso and visibly wet small clothes. His manhood twitched at the delicious sight. It stiffened by the beat of his heart that grew faster as he watched her untie the laces of her own small clothes. He ran his hand through her lifted thigh and began kissing her soft skin. By the time she'd removed the fabric, he was already before her entrance- ready to lick at her cunt. He blew some air into her sensitive skin before letting his tongue attack her slit. "Ohhh... Aaaahhhh..." Sansa moaned as Jon roughly moved through her. He couldn't help but laugh at her lack of self-control.  
"You worry about markings but you don't worry about people hearing you from the hall to Wintertown." He said, pausing momentarily. She did not answer him. She simply looked at him with lust clouded eyes before she pushed his head closer to her nub. Jon let out another quite giggle before he obliged. His tongue swirled around the hard nub. He then inserted a few fingers, curling them once he was at his desired depth. "Oh! Jon! That feels good!" She screamed at the sudden surge of pleasure. This time Jon really had to pause.  
"Truly. Sansa." He began as he lifted himself up and away from her cunt. "Surely Brienne's heard you already from the end of the hall."  
Sansa looked at him defiantly. She did not say anything but her actions rang louder than any word. She kept her gaze at him while one of her hands moved down to her clit and she began pleasuring herself on her own. Jon watched her and saliva began to pool in his mouth. Sansa shut her eyes as her movements got faster and faster. Her other hand followed suit and found its way into her entrance. She slid two fingers and started pumping on her own. "Oh Jon! Ah! Agh! Agggh!" She moaned unabashedly. His cock throbbed all the more with each pump. He could see Sansa's back arching and her muscles tensing. She was not far from cumming. He quickly unlaced his breeches and freed his cock from its confines. He pumped it a few time as he made his approach. He forcefully took out her finger then plunged himself into her before she could complain. "Jon!" She practically screamed at the sudden fullness she felt. He kissed her to swallow most of her moans as he began roughly pumping in and out of her. He lost all will to be gentle. Her show had proven too erotic for him. She was so tight and so sensitive. It didn't take long for him to peak. She came all too quickly and took him with her. His seed spilled into her. Warmth filled the insides of her belly and she rode out her orgasm to squeeze him fully.  
Jon collapsed on top of her, resting his head on the valley of her breasts. She traced little circles on his skin as they tried to calm.  
"I hope they heard us," she said. "I want Winterfell to know who I was fucking tonight."  
"Sansa..." He groaned. "Please, let's be more discreet. I told you, I don't want people to come between us." He lifted himself up and pulled out of her. He rolled to the side of the bed and pulled her into his arms. "They will come between us once they find out."  
"Fine... I'll scream a different name then..." She joked. "I'll call out Snow instead."  
He rolled his eyes at her. His minks of a lover had him wrapped around her finger. Sansa deserved to be loved and worshipped. Everyone be damned, that's what he will do for the rest of his life. He pulled her closer to him and he let himself doze off to sleep.  
At that moment he could care less if someone were to find them. 

Nothing mattered.  
He tried to fight his self over the matter, but Sansa was right.  
What could be so wrong about love?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write smut so forgive me for the subpar quality of the explicit content but I felt that this really has to culminate in the making love. 
> 
> If you're also reading my other work you'll find that we find Jon and Sansa there already in an established relationship. I couldn't get them out of my mind so I wrote this as a one-shot to explain how they got where they are at the start of The Wind that Calls.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it :)


End file.
